


An Ordinary Conversation

by nothingeverlost



Category: Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-18
Updated: 2012-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-29 18:29:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/322839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingeverlost/pseuds/nothingeverlost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It will be the most painful way to die,” their captor promised.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Ordinary Conversation

“It will be the most painful way to die,” their captor promised.

Illya looked at Napoleon, a single eyebrow raised in silent comment. Napoleon tugged at the rope that bound his hands together and slowly shook his head. “No.”

“Excuse me?” The fire poking was paused as an indignant torturer looked at Solo. “I’ve already made up my mind, Mr Solo. You will not dissuade me.”

“I don’t doubt that. I simply disagree that this would be the most painful way to die. Illya?”

“It would be horribly painful, Napoleon.” Illya looked placidly at the array of metal instruments, all glowing red at the tips.

“More painful that that crocodile would have been?”

“The crocodile would have been painful, true, but at least they kill you before they eat you. It wouldn’t be much worse than drowning.” Illya shrugged as much as his bonds would allow. “The piranhas I came across in that moat would have been worse. They eat you alive.”

“Piranhas. I’d forgotten about those.” Napoleon shuddered. “Still, I think being eaten by piranhas wouldn’t be as bad as being eaten by acid. Watching your skin sizzle and melt away, feeling the burn.”

“Hot oil would be worse,” Illya declared. “Painful, with the added benefit of smelling yourself cooking, like chicken.”

“Gentleman, while I appreciate your enthusiasm for the subject I really must...”

“Illya, now is not the time to think of food.” Napoleon ignored the man pacing in front of them.

“I was not thinking about food. Quite the opposite, in fact; the last time I was threatened with a vat of boiling oil I couldn’t eat anything fried for a week.”

“Pity.” Napoleon shook his head. “It would be over fairly quickly, though. I still can’t drive past Chinatown without remembering that garden I was stretched over. Being skewered by bamboo stakes as they grew over the course of hours would have been a slow way to die.”

“Starvation would be slower.” Illya wrinkled his nose, trying to alleviate an itch.

“It does have to be said, though,” Napoleon mussed, “there are some benefits to a slow death.”

“Please, do share,” Illya said dryly.

“The longer you stay alive, the greater the chance for escape.”

“Escape sounds like a wonderful idea.”

“Shall we?” Napoleon suggested. Illya nodded almost imperceptibly. At the same moment they brought their unbound hands from behind them and leaped out of their chairs. Two against one, even when the one was heavily armed, meant that the struggle was brief.

“He was right, Napoleon. That would have been a painful way to die.” Illya barely spared a glance at the corpse before he headed for the door.

“Indeed, it would have been.” Napoleon flexed his sore wrists and followed Illya outside.


End file.
